


Trailing on Sorrow-smudged Tracks

by dasakuryo



Series: heart of winter fires [1]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Cassian Andor-centric, Family, Gen, Headcanon, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-28
Updated: 2017-09-23
Packaged: 2018-12-08 03:49:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11638329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dasakuryo/pseuds/dasakuryo
Summary: Cassian needs to concentrate on the upcoming mission, but the ghosts of Fest won't stop coming back to haunt him -no matter how hard he tries to silence them.





	1. Chapter 1

He should have known better. He should have seen it coming.

No matter how many years had gone by, no matter that he'd been still —technically— a child, an eight year old child when it happened, Cassian Jeron Andor still thought he should have known that something was up when Ñire told him to go get him another hot chocolate—

Even then, though a child, he had known perfectly well how to read his surroundings —Ñire himself had taught him that— so, why hadn't he been paying more attention? Why hadn't he warned him?

A several-years-older Cassian Jeron Andor snapped his eyes open and stared at the vast darkness of his quarters. There was only a dim blue line of light seeping beneath the durasteel door. If he concentrated enough, he'd surely be able to listen to the faint humming sound of hyperspace; Kay and him had a standard day worth of travel time before arriving to Kolatill.

Cassian shifted in bed. His thoughts kept going back to Fest, instead of focusing on going over the map of Domaz he'd spent hours memorizing —or, by the looks of it, trying to memorize rather unsuccessfully. He let out a heavy sigh, the air packing in a grunt at the end. He squeezed the rim of the blanket between his fingers. His eyes itched and he waited until the sensation turned unbearable, and then forced himself to blink.

Out of the blue, his last image of Ñire seemed to have risen from the depths of his memory and etched to his retina. Each time he blinked he saw it vividly again. He fisted the blanket, his nails would have dug into his palms if it weren't for the cloth shielding them from harm.

He took another deep breath and did his best to focus on the soft hum of the ship. He needed to even his breathing. He needed to get back to sleep.

But no matter how hard he tried to push the memory away, it kept coming back. Cassian squirmed in bed, took deep breaths over and over again, forced himself to think about anything else but Fest. He went over the mission plan, over the capital city's map, over the different scenarios Kay had come up with and the best routes for a swift escape.

It was no use, the images kept popping up in his mind at random intervals, each time filling in more and more gaps, the bits and pieces he'd managed to stash and lock away for years had come back to haunt him. He could almost feel the icy zephyr of Fest giving him goosebumps.

His hand dived under the pillow, accidentally striking the vibro-blade hard handle. His fingers poked, almost dug into the mattress. Grinding his teeth, he breathed out the air from his lungs through his nose. A whimper built up in the back of his throat, the muscles of his jaw quickly wrapping into a tight knot. He squeezed his eyes shut, as hard as he could.

But the scorch behind his eyelids didn't give in; and when he blinked, his eyes burnt. When he squeezed his eyes tightly shut again, silent tears slid down his cheeks. He buried his face into the pillow. He thought he could choke back the tears, but then he found himself powerless at fighting down the tremble, unable to keep his body from shaking when the past started to rattle in his mouth.

He remembered the stormtroopers taking him away, the desperation that clawed at his throat. It all played again in his mind. He'd followed them, because he couldn't leave him—because the debris of naivety that hadn't shattered kept thumping in his chest. Because he thought he'd a chance of saving him—

Because they'd already taking her mother from him—

He remembered the _interrogation_ he'd witnessed shielded by the snow. The sound of thuds, bumps, bashes and cracks of duraplast and steel meeting flesh. The escalating threats that had rolled out from the Admiral and stormtroopers' mouths as red tinted the immaculate white—

The memories made his throat bleed.

His only consolation was that at least Kay wasn't there to witness him crumbling apart.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> History has a nasty habit of repeating itself, over and over again.

The day had a dim grey luster. Fest spring was only a few weeks away, which meant receding snow in the mainlands and plains, brighter and warmer sun rays reaching the white below. A triumph of light after four months of only meager daylight.

Fest winter might be coming to its end, but spending time out in the open still meant finding ways to shield oneself from the unmerciful cold —even when wearing several layers of clothing. There were colorful market stalls at each side of the plaza pathways. Chatter, merchandise and goods announcements were the ambient sounds which challenged to stifle the shrill whistling of the cold wind.

A morning as any other morning. Going down to the market for food supplies was something that needed to be done, especially when there were a handful of mouths to be fed, when children —orphaned by war and the greed and the violence of the now Galactic Empire— were under one's care. Ñire couldn't delay it any longer, and asking the vendors and merchants to drop by their base was out of the question —it was extremely risky for both parties involved. For the merchants, because they would be accused of treason and conspiring with dissidents, for them well... besides being discovered, arrested, tortured and killed efficiently afterwards— 

The children would be left to their fates.

In a world controlled by the Empire, Ñire was more than aware of the deeper gloom that would cast over them.

 Ñire also knew perfectly well they couldn't stand idly by and let themselves be massacred by the Empire. They had to fight back. And yet... he wanted to protect these children from the horrors of war for as long as he could. He was not naive, he knew most of these children were well acquainted with occupation, with invasion, they were old enough to remember the Clone Wars even if their minds couldn't wrap around the whole depth of the conflict.

They knew what if felt like.

This was but the logical conclusion of the Republic, after all. The Galactic Empire. Their intentions were no longer masked under pretty worded speeches and skewed versions of justice and morality. As far as Ñire was concerned, they were doing exactly what the Republic always did, find their way into planets that didn't want anything to do with them and exerting their power to remain there by threats and violence –the latter had stopped being merely symbolic long ago.

He heard the snow crunching under hurried short steps. He turned and looked at the boy; his face was red from the run and the icy cold wind whipping his skin. Ñire's lips curled into a small half-smile when the boy tried to mask his ragged breathing and squared his shoulders, standing a little on his toes as he did.

“Cassian, you sure you can keep up?” he asked, voice bordering on a teasing chuckle.

The kid nearly puffed up his cheeks before nodding sharply, “yes,” he simply answered, staring right back at him. Tension wrapped around his jaw, and Ñire felt something tugging at his chest when softness was barely visible-

It wasn't fair. 

He gestured Cassian to follow him, and soon enough they reached the market sector he'd been looking for all along. The woman nodded, going over their order. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the way Cassian was rubbing his hands together, he kept hearing the faint swish of the fabric for more than a solid minute after looking away. 

It would be a while until part of their provisions were ready, Sombra would be dropping by in the afternoon to take the second third and he would be taking the third two days from then –leaving with the whole load they needed at once would look suspicious. They had to be careful and avoid drawing any unnecessary attention. Rumor had it someone might tell on them. 

Still, he figured there was no harm done if they went for some hot chocolate while they waited. Not that Cassian would ever voice it out loud, but he seemed to be needing just that.  


 

“Better?” Ñire asked casually before bringing the mug to his lips. 

Cassian pressed his lips together, tasting the chocolate drink. He tapped his feet on the snow and jerked his head, almost imperceptibly. He knew he wouldn't be getting much more than that, the kid wasn't particularly talkative –not that was that surprising, considering what had happened to him. After all, there was a reason why Cassian ended up under his and Sombra's wing. 

“ _I need a place to stay,” the tiny, shuddering but defiant voice said, “I can pay,” the currency tingled in his small, clenched fist._

“ _We'll see about that,” Sombra replied in a serious tone, though Ñire knew she'd been fighting down the warm smile the whole time. “How about you eat first, little one.”_

“ _I'm not a kid anymore,” he'd said, nose scrunching up as he frowned.“I'm eight,” he tapped his chest with the same clenched fist once._

Ñire couldn't worm out of him that night how he had ended up in the streets alone. The kid grew still and tensed as soon as he tiptoed around the subject, and he'd been around kids scarred by war for far too long to identify the signs when he saw them. 

The kid's warm eyes would glisten with tears and he would drop the subject, talk about how he had ended up on Fest instead when he moved when he was sixteen, three years earlier. It took quite some time, but nearly a month after his arrival the kid revealed what had happened to his mother-- not that Ñire didn't have a slight suspicions about it, given the kid's nightmares. 

Part of one of the Festian rebel cells, abducted from her home, thrown into a land vehicle. Nobody had seen Losna Andor again ever since. Ñire knew what had happened to her, so did his son. He wouldn't have run after the land speeder dimming in the distance, clutching a thermal detonator in his hand, if he hadn't know what was in store for his mum. 

Ñire wished it had been quick. 

It probably _hadn't_. 

(That was the night Cassian had learnt how important a codename was, how much protection hiding someone's real identity could bring. Ñire wasn't his real name, neither was Sombra. Cassian had argued it didn't matter, what difference would it make if all his family was dead? Nobody could use him now, could they?) 

Cassian seemed lost in thought, staring at the now empty white duraplast cup, as if the remaining swirls of brown foam drying on the bottom held some sort of message he needed to decipher. His gaze was clouded. Ñire's heart missed a beat when he looked up. 

A little kid was squirming at a woman, and by one of the words escaping the boy's mouth it was obvious the relationship that bind them together. The woman was trying to fix the flaps of her son's fur hat. 

“Too early for you to be growing a moustache, don't you think?” Ñire said, elbowing the kid in the arm. Cassian shrugged and rubbed his face with the cuff of his jacket. 

Ñire was about to take the last sip of his hot chocolate when something else caught his attention. Figures approaching. Their attire wasn't bright colored, like Festian were accustomed to. White with dashes of black growing in the distance, walking towards _them_. 

His mind went to the blaster concealed at his hip, under his parka. He glanced to Cassian. 

He didn't have much time if he wanted the plan to work. 

He reached for his pocket and took out a few credits. 

“Hey, Cassian, would you mind getting me another cup?” relief fluttered in Ñire's chest when he looked up, brown eyes shining with joy and enthusiasm. The boy hadn't seen the 'troopers, “and another one for you, of course,” he added, winking. 

Before the boy dashed to the stall, Ñire ruffled his hair. A smile trembled on his lips as the boy dimmed in the distance.

* * *

Cassian didn't like going into town. 

At all. 

Not after what had happened to his mother. And he absolutely hated going down to the market -he used to go there every other afternoon with his mum to get supplies and food. Back when papá was alive, when the figures in white duraplast hadn't come from the grey sky yet... every time papá came back to Fest they would go out for dinner and a treat. They would spend a happy afternoon, Cassian would tell papá of his adventures with his friends up the mountains, mamá would scold him, Cassian would try an innocent smile and then a pout, neither would work, then papá would kiss mamá and she would snort and ruffle Cassian's hair— 

He missed mamá's fingers ruffling his hair.

Cassian missed papá stories. 

He missed mamá and her smiles. 

Sombra was nice and kind, but she wasn't mamá. 

(Sombra's churros weren't as delicious as mamá's, even though she tried.) 

Those thoughts felt like silly thoughts to have; and yet-- he missed them. Was it wrong, missing them like that? Was it wrong hoping that mamá was alive? Even when... deep down he knew she wasn't? Was it wrong to held that hope close to his heart after so long? 

Sombra had said something about the Force, and how those who love us never truly leave us, because they are in the Force around us. 

Cassian couldn't feel mamá close anymore, no matter where he was. 

The Force hadn't listened to him when they took her. _The ones in the middle_ hadn't helped either, whether they'd been in the Force or outside of it. 

The Force works in mysterious ways, an old lady had told him once. Cassian hadn't understood it then, and didn't understand it now either. Did the Force say it was time for mamá and papá to go? Cassian was sure the Stormtroopers had decided, not the Force. Had the Force wanted him to end up at Sombra and Ñire's doorsteps or had it been a mere coincidence? 

He tapped his thumb on the duraplast cup of his new mug filled with hot chocolate. The snow crunched beneath his feet as he made his way back. He bit his lip when he heard a faint slosh, he resumed his pacing, walking more slowly and carefully this time. It was cold, and the hot chocolate was delicious, it'd be a crime to spill even a tiniest of droplets in the snow. He relaxed his clutch on each mug to keep the liquid from going up and seeping through the lid. 

He looked up, eyes narrowing as he looked for the teen. 

His throat knotted. His fingers flexed. Snow melted and got painted brown. 

Again. 

_It was happening again._

The 'troopers in white were dragging Ñire away too. 

Cassian couldn't breathe. 

Just like his mother. By-standers looked away, even walked away. Why wasn't anybody doing anything? Why were his feet fused to the snow? Why couldn't he move? Why the only thing he could do was choke on his own breathing and hear his heart beating in his ears? 

The teen locked eyes with him and smiled the tiniest of smiles. 

_Go. Run._

Cassian curled his fingers into his palm. Something heavy fluttered in his chest, something light drummed behind his ribs. The snow crunched beneath his boots again. 

Cassian ran. 

But not in the direction Ñire wanted him to.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story takes place between his mother's abduction and him officially joining a Festian rebel cell. I address other bits and pieces of this pre-canon headcanon in _Loose Bandaged Tourniquets_ , I envisioned Cassian as finding himself in a Festian resistance movement cell primarily out of accident after following his mum into one of the secret bases, rather than engaging in fighting. Like Sabine Wren and Ezra Bridger, I believe he joined the Alliance as teen, around the age Sabine and Ezra did, rather than at six years old (I really can't envision Draven dragging a six year-old into Yavin 4's base). 
> 
> Both Ñire and Sombra are OCs, invented for the purpose of Cassian's backstory. The two do fight against the Empire, and take in children orphaned by the war on Fest. Sombra means shadow in Spanish, Ñire is the name of a tree, both are codenames, and both are symbolic (yes, I am evil, their significance it's left for the next chapter). Just like his mother, both Sombra and Ñire taught Cassian how to survive amidst the war, this reality, and how to fight back if that's what he wants to do.
> 
> Oh, on a side note. I can't recall exactly whether it's (old) canon or not that people in Fest wore dark colours on their clothes. I chose not to be the case... it doesn't sound practical to wear dark colours that can get confused with the topography beneath the snow in an ice planet. I kept thinking that wearing bright colours that can be looked at a distance made more sense as a safety precaution, bearing in mind that someone can get lost, right?
> 
> Thanks for putting up with this never-ending author notes n.nUu I hope you've enjoyed the chapter and the journey so far :) Thank you so much for reading! ♥

**Author's Note:**

> A little multi-chapter (drabble-ish) story tackling some of my own personal headcanons on Cassian's past. I've always pictured him joining the Alliance in his teens, around 14yo or perhaps later, as Sabine Wren and Ezra Bridger did, but since his "I have been in this fight since I was six years old", made me think that he must have taken part in the resistance movements to the Empire's occupation of his homeworld.
> 
> Thanks for reading and hope you've enjoyed the story :) Feedback is sincerely appreciated ♥


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